"Hrmph," says the grizzled veteran with a grimace. "Mayhap you'd be so gracious to show me to the dwarf who fought the brigands? He may have something more to say."
Provided Ebis agrees, they find Niar not far away resting in front of a small tent, a compress on his sore head.
"I'm Sergeant Coldbrook, formerly of the Guard. My regiment protected this place once, but now I'm the closest thing to protection that Kingsbridge has. Not as useful as I once was..." he indicates his missing arm and shrugs. "Like to ask you about the bandits you fought. We've had more than our fair share of trouble with 'em. But they've never been as bold as attacking within sight of town. Tell me, did you notice anything about them?"
Stig
Following the directions, you find Orrin outside a small cottage next to the wooden temple. He seems to be tending to the small flowers planted along the front of his house, bent to his knees and intent on his work.
As you get closer, you can hear that he is actually chanting some form of prayer, eyes closed. When finished, he rises and greets you warmly. "Even the small things are better with Deadeye's blessing. He may grace me with this small wonders late into the season."
You find he has set a small plain but well supplied table on the veranda outside his cottage. There is a green salad, warm bread and butter, a pot of boiled potatoes and coney seasoned with mint. The food is simple, but well-prepared.
"Glad you accepted my invitation to dinner. We don't get many outsiders in town these days, and many have forgotten simple rules of hospitality. Guest right is still honored in the church of Erastil, at least here, even in these hard times. Do you plan to stay in our town long?"
"My thanks again for the invitation. I don't receive many gestures of welcome in most any town I visit. I decided to offer you the mushrooms I gathered on my last journey, rather than try to sell or trade at Rosenthorn's. I hope you will enjoy them."
Stig hands Orrin the pouch of mushrooms and inclines his head slightly in appreciation.
"I usually don't stay in one place long. I'll probably see if there are any odd jobs I would be suited to before moving on."
The dining on the front porch is nice, the sun beginning to set makes a bright red glow in the western sky. Orrin stretches back on his chair, and opens his mouth to replay, when a cry comes from the street:
"Brother Orrin! Brother Orrin! Come quick! Wolves has got inta me flock 'gain an' now 3 of me sheep is missin'. You is alway talkin' 'bout wolves an' flock, an' now its happenin'. Someun's gotta git them wovles, Brother. I'll lose me whole flock if'n they don't."
Orrin bolts up in his chair. "You go fetch Sergeant Coldbrook. I saw him heading up the street a few minutes ago. He'll have an idea who can lend some help for your flock, Cal. I'll grab my bow and come see what we can sort out."
As the shepherd turns up the street, Orrin shrugs his shoulders apologetically to Stig. "Thank you for the mushrooms. It's a fine gift. I think they'd go well in a stew with the rest of the rabbit. But, as you can see, duty calls. Cal's had wolf trouble lately, and despite the late hour, we may have to hunt the pack down and put and end to this. Sorry to run out on you."
He pushes back from the table and enters the house, returning a few seconds later with a polished longbow, carved with some runes and symbols. He hefts a quiver of white-feathered arrows on his back, and ties a shortsword on his belt.
"Welcome to come along, if you like. Might be dangerous. But could use a good woodsman along. Up to you."